Find Your Spot

Spring hiking in Dishman Hills

I remember when I lived in the shadow of the Dishman Hills in Spokane. It gave me the ability to be on the trail in just a few short minutes of walking out the door. That was the beauty of Spokane living: lots of parks in town, with great hiking and beautiful scenery. Whether its Beacon Hill or Riverside State Park, there are places to escape too without a long drive out of town. My spot was always Dishman Hills though. As a kid I used to go up there to explore with my friends. We would climb the water tower, catch frogs and snakes at one of the ponds, or play Army in the woods. I vividly remember finding an old American Flag up there. It was worn out, faded, and weather beaten, but I could still recognize the stars and stripes. I was convinced that a battle must have been fought there back in the "olden" days. 

There was about a 10 year period where I didn't step foot in the Dishman Hills. I was too busy being 20-something. I didn't hike nearly as much. I moved a lot. But when I was introduced to backpacking a few years ago, I was reintroduced to the Dishman Hills. It became my spot again. I explored the old familiar places and discovered a bunch of new ones. I hiked all the trails, bagged all the "peaks", and explored all the ravines. I explored off trail a lot too, and sometimes found myself accidentally trespassing on private property, or momentarily lost in some unfamiliar place... But it became mine again.

It's funny how when you spend time in a place... When you love a place... It starts feeling like it belongs to you. You feel responsible for it. You take ownership of it.

                                         

It started for me in Dishman Hills simply by picking up garbage. I hate seeing trash in the woods, and in the Dishman Hills its almost an epidemic. Usually this trash comes in the form of piles of beer cans and bottles of booze. I've seen it all over Dishman Hills. Illegal fire rings littered with beer cans. Or abandoned camps strewn with ruined gear, and (you guessed it) empty beer cans. The culprits are usually vagrants. In the summer the homeless will sometimes live in the nooks and cranny's of the park. Normally I wouldn't really care... I feel sorry for the homeless, and the woods can offer some shelter and privacy for them... I get it, I really do. The problem is that they have no respect for the woods. They don't just build a camp, they trash the place. I know, because I've seen it. Iv'e picked up lots of trash from vagrant camps, and I'm sure trail crews from The Dishman Hills Conservancy have as well.

Last year, late in the winter, I was hiking in the Dishman Hills on a particularly cold morning. There was frost on the ground, and barely any hikers at all in the park that day. I kept hearing banging in the woods. It sounded like hammering... Like somebody working on something. I followed the sound off trail, and from a hilltop spotted a man building a lean-to. He looked to be in his mid-40's. He wore faded black slacks and a black jacket. I stood in silence watching him, trying to decide what to do. My first reaction was just to turn back and forget it, but I was pissed off because I had seen so many empty abandoned camps full of trash. This was actually the second time I had come upon a man in the woods building a shelter, but the first time I just walked away. This time would be different.

"You're not supposed to be building shelters out here you know" I said rather forcefully from about 20 feet behind him. This of course scared the hell out of him because I totally sneaked up on him without him realizing it. He finally spotted me on the hilltop.

"Who are you? The conservation police?" he replied.

"No, but I care about conservation, and I care about this park." I said.

"I'm just making a good spot to have breakfast and relax in the woods" he said.

"That's fine" I said, "but you shouldn't be tearing down trees to do it." The guy seemed really nervous. His eyes kept darting back and forth from me to his backpack. I didn't believe his story for a second.

"What, are you going to call the police?" he asked. Of course I didn't want to call the police because I felt bad for this guy, and I knew that he was probably homeless.

"If you need a place to stay there is a mission downtown. I can give you a dollar for the bus." I said. He seemed offended that I suggested he was homeless.

"I'm not homeless. I have an apartment. I just like to stay in the woods sometimes. Is that a crime?" he said.

"The problem is that I see camps like this all the time around here, and thy're always full of garbage and empty beer cans." I said.

"I'll clean up after myself I promise. And I wont tear down any more trees." he replied.

I could hear the desperation in his voice, and besides, I had no authority over this man at all. I just wanted to let him know that there were people who used the park that actually cared about the park, so maybe he would think twice about leaving a mess. 

"Okay, that works for me." I said, and I walked away. 

I was compelled to speak up in that situation because Dishman Hills was my spot, and I had a stake in its condition. I couldn't just do nothing, because I felt responsible. I think that's why conservation groups try to push people to play outside so much. Because they know that if you love the place, then you might love it enough to protect it.

Firefighter putting out a brush fire I spotted off trail in Dishman Hills.

I left my spot last June when I moved to Phoenix, but I quickly found a new spot. The Phoenix Mountains Preserve is 10 minutes from my house, and I usually get out there twice a week. I don't know it like I know the Dishman Hills, but I am learning. I try a different route every time I go. I connect different trails to make a different loop every time. I climb all the peaks and explore all the out-of-the-way places. I love it. I love having a place that I know better than any other. Sure, its right in the center of town, but so what? Its outside and its in nature, and its my spot. Whats your spot?

Javelina Hoedown: Fossil Creek Overnighter

*Note: The title for this blog sounds cooler if you know that Javelina is pronounced with an "H", and sounds like Havelina.

Top of the canyon

Ever since I moved to Arizona, Sarah has been talking about Fossil Creek. She would talk about the splendor of it's falls, and the beauty of it's banks. She would tell me how perfect the water was for swimming. Unfortunately we never had a chance to go because the Forest Service closed it, on account of all the trash and overcrowding. You see, although the Fossil Creek area is a designated "Wilderness" and the creek itself is a designated "Wild and Scenic River" there are roads leading down to the creek at the canyon bottom. This makes it easy for people to access the creek with minimal effort. As a result the area has seen an epidemic of litter, trampled vegetation, and general misuse. They finally opened it back up in September, and since we had a free weekend, Sarah and I decided to hike in for an overnighter, and we brought her dog Rocco.

The hike got off to a bad start before we even made it to the trailhead. Driving through Payson I suddenly had this sinking feeling that I forgot my hiking shoes. I pulled over and searched the car. Sure enough, my Merrell's were nowhere to be found. For the first time in my life I actually forgot my damn boots! I couldn't believe it. Sarah suggested we swing by Walmart and pick up a pair of cheap shoes, which is what I did. Fifteen dollars later I was the proud owner of a pair of Starter tennis shoes that were a half-size too big. They looked like they were made from plastic, and the tread on the soles were non-existent. I wasn't looking forward to hiking in them.

The trail was all down hill. We passed several signs warning hikers to be prepared. Apparently every year people hike down to the canyon with flip-flops and no water. I read online that Fossil Creek can draw up to 4,000 people on the weekends. The evidence of overuse was plain to see. We saw beer cans, water bottles, toilet paper, food cans, clothing, and just a lot of garbage on and near the trail. It was pretty pathetic. The worst I've ever seen. The trail itself was a gradual descent, dropping 1500 feet over 4 miles. The parts of the trail made of soft red sand was really comfortable. The parts that were rocky and boulder strewn - not so much - but my new shoes held up, and we made it to the bottom relatively easy. We found a perfect little campsite near the water and set up shop, and from what I could tell we had the entire place to ourselves. We didn't see anyone down at the creek that first day. 

Fossil Creek

That afternoon Sarah and I were lounging around on some big boulders down the trail from our camp. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, and when I looked up I saw a huge javelina coming down the hill. For those of you unfamiliar with a javelina (also called a peccary) they look like a big wild pig, except they aren't pigs, they're peccaries. They are shaped like a pig, covered in hair, and (this is the fun part) have huge sharp canines that stick out on top and bottom. So here I am watching this javelina gallivant down the hill and it looks like a big boy to me. I guessed it was at least 100 pounds. It looked that big. Definitely the alpha male of it's peccary pack. Sarah and I are watching this javelina (who is oblivious to us) and I see that it's headed in the same direction I saw Rocco go just a couple minutes before. Then I see Rocco walking up the trail toward us, near the javelina. At this point I blew my cover (I was sneaking around trying to get a clear shot with the camera) and called out to Rocco because I didn't want him to attract the javelina's attention and get gored. I swear they passed within 20 feet of each other and neither of them even knew it. I guess the rushing water sound of the creek drowned out the noise. 

Boiling water for dinner that night I noticed a white powder in my water, that resembled salt. It worried me because earlier in the month biologists poisoned the creek to kill non-native bass. Even though the Ranger had told me the water was safe, I was still a little bit apprehensive. Sarah thought the sediment was just a mineral in the water, and she was right. After researching for this blog, I found that Fossil Creek is "super saturated with calcium carbonate", which explains the milky water. The interesting thing is that the water in the creek is crystal clear, and doesn't become milky until heated. 

Collared Peccary (Not my pic)

The full moon lit up the valley so well that I could see clearly in the dark. We were camped with the rainfly off and the moon was directly above us. It was pretty awesome. Rocco was sleeping outside the tent at our heads. Sarah was sound asleep too. All was quiet. Then I heard squealing. Pig squealing. Peccary squealing. Loud squealing, like screaming. It was coming from the spot near our camp where we saw the javelina earlier. It sounded like some javelina hoedown or peccary pit fight. It went on for 5 to 10 minutes, and then just as sudden as it began, it stopped. Rocco was freaked. He started whimpering and pacing around the camp. I was freaked too. I kept thinking of an episode of Survivorman that I watched last week. Les was in the Sonoran Desert, and he mentioned several times how aggressive and dangerous javelinas could be... Sarah slept through the whole thing.

About an hour later, I was still awake. I heard screaming in the dark. I thought the javelinas came back. I sat up in the tent and listened, and then I heard voices. In a couple minutes a large group of teenagers came walking through our camp. About 10 in all, being loud and obnoxious. Two were even carrying a cooler. How they carried a cooler all the way down from the trailhead, in the dark, I don't know. I suspect they knew of another way in. I thought I heard the sound of car doors shutting. It was weird. They set up camp in the spot next to us, where I had heard the javelinas. Then they proceeded to party all night. It was pretty lame. I wasn't very happy. In fact I spent the next hour laying in the tent thinking about the letter I would write the forest service. Personally, if they want to keep Fossil Creek clean and pristine, they are going to need to make the hard decisions. Like closing all roads leading to it for starters. Make people hike to it. It will weed out the undesirables, like those who would fill the place with garbage. 

I was awoke by voices the next morning. Apparently the portion of the creek we had camped by was a popular swimming hole. There was a large group of people in there swimming at 7:30 am. We spent the day hiking and swimming ourselves. Saw some beautiful scenery, and an awesome waterfall. Found some interesting litter, like a pair of shoes, a couple sleeping bags, and a tent, among other things. 

The hike out was tough in the blazing sun. Rocco needed lots of brakes. By the time we made it to the car I had a blister the size of a dime on my left big toe. All things considered, an excellent trip. The truth is, that even with all the people and all the trash, Fossil Creek is a beautiful place, and very much worth a weekend backpacking trip.

Waterfall

Sloth Bear

When you think of large predators, especially in India, one usually thinks of a Bengal tiger. Last night I was watching National Geographic and they were talking about a species of bear in India and Sri-Lanka called the Sloth Bear. Although not actually related to the sloth, this bear, appears slow, has long curved claws like a sloth, and feeds primarily on ants and termites. What really caught my attention however was the aggressive nature of the sloth bear, and how it is known throughout India as one of the most dangerous animals in the country. The sloth bear is known to attack completely unprovoked, and usually charges humans on sight. The really scary part is that this particular bear always goes for the face. Attack victims usually have their noses, ears, lips, and eyelids torn off. Even survivors are usually maimed for life.

It may be my own morbid curiosity, but really I think it's my fascination with bears (and animals in general), but after learning a little about this savage little known bear on the television I immediately had to know more. I picked up my laptop and did some research and found some really interesting stuff. First of all it's not that big for a bear. They typically weigh around 200 pounds, the largest adults topping out at around 300, which is smaller than even the American black bear. What sets the sloth bear apart however is it's aggressiveness and fierce reputation among the Indians. In fact I read on one website that Indians fear the sloth bear more than Bengal tigers and the country’s dozens of killer snakes, including pythons, Russels vipers (which in itself is amazing because this snake kills thousands of people worldwide every year), and even cobra's. In fact in Mammalia of India, Robert Sterndale writes:

“The sloth bear is also more inclined to attack man unprovoked than almost any other animal, and casualties inflicted by it are unfortunately very common, the victim being often terribly disfigured even if not killed, as the bear strikes at the head and face. Blanford was inclined to consider bears more dangerous than tigers... “

This fearsome reputation no doubt is a direct result of the animals aggressiveness and tendency to maul the face, but sloth bears apparently also have a taste for limbs. Instead of killing the human victim outright sloth bears will gnaw, chew, and suckle on the limbs, while the victim is still alive and pinned underneath. Oddly enough sloth bears don’t actually eat the victims, but instead run away after a good mauling. Scientists say this is because sloth bears view humans not as prey, but as predators, and that this behavior is also exhibited toward Bengal tigers and Indian leopards.

Numbers for the entire country of India seem non-existent but some regional statistics are:

• In the Indian State of Madhya Pradesh between 1989 and 1994, sloth bears killed 48 people and injured 686 others.

• In the Indian State of Chhattisgarh between 1998 and 2000, sloth bears attacked 137 people and killed 11.

Now, there are 28 states and 7 territories in India, and over one billion people. Though the sloth bears range is limited due to habitat loss, and the fact that they prefer lower, heavily wooded areas, one can still imagine that the number of sloth bear attacks on humans per year is probably pretty high, just based off of those numbers.

I said before that sloth bears generally don't eat their human victims, but I did find one notorious case of a man-eater known as “The Sloth bear of Mysore”. This one bear mauled 36 people, killing 12. Eventually after several unsuccessful hunts, the bear was finally shot and killed. I won't go into details, but the story is well documented and can be read about here:

http://www.absoluteastronomy.com/topics/Sloth_bear_of_Mysore

It's amazing how many people die in India every year from wild animals. I could have sworn the documentary I was watching last night claimed something like 20,000 people every year are killed by wild animals. I couldn't find anything to support that (although admittedly I don’t have the resources of National Geographic) but I did find a very interesting New York Times article from 1882 that gave a figure of 21,990 deaths in 1880. The animals listed as responsible are more of the usual suspects, tigers, wolves, and snakes (being the big one), but no sloth bears. You can read the article here:

http://query.nytimes.com/mem/archive-free/pdf?res=9A0DE6DE123BE033A2575AC2A9679C94639FD7CF

Considering that India now has over a billion people it's not really hard to imagine that with such a plethora of deadly animals that number could be accurate even today. Especially considering that rural India is still very much 3^rd world. Lacking modern emergency services, or even communications and transportation systems, one can easily see how someone in India could die from an infection or broken leg, let alone a wild animal attack.

Anyways, I just thought it was interesting that there existed this bear that I'd never heard of that was so notorious. Oddly enough, one of the things I read is that sloth bears are easily tamable. I know, it doesn't really jive with their reputation, but apparently they are even trained to dance. It's actually quite cruel. They are poached as cubes, their nose is pierced and a rope passed through it for easy control. You can read about it here:

http://www.wspa-international.org/wspaswork/bears/dancingbears/

I don't know where I'm going with this, and am really just thinking out loud. You know whats really funny though? I actually think about stuff like this all the damn time.

Here are my other references I used:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sloth_bear

http://animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/mammals/sloth-bear.html

http://www.bearbiology.com/fileadmin/tpl/Downloads/URSUS/Vol_16_2/Bargali_Akhtar_16_2_.pdf